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There's nothing funny about Skippy, a wasted showcase for writer-producer-star Joe Convery.

First the good news: Skippy is not a big-screen update of the 60s TV series about an adorable bush kangaroo. Nor does it have anything to do with peanut butter, or even flat stones being thrown across ponds. That's the only good news.

No, this Skippy is the tale of a "man-child" (because goodness knows the world needs more movies about immature males) played by writer-producer-uncredited director Joe Convery (the credits bill Space Freaks From Planet Mutoid director Dennis Zervos as this film's helmer, but he apparently walked shortly after production began). Skippy, a character clearly designed to be the next Pee-wee Herman, Ernest, or Ed Grimley (but more like Jeff Daniels' character in Dumb and Dumber), works at a boardwalk carnival in New Jersey, where he periodically tries and fails miserably to pick up bikini-clad babes. When he hears that his favorite actress, Julia Fontaine (Paget Brewster), has bizarrely decided to hold open auditions from all over the world for a regular guy she can date, Skippy decides that this is his big chance and hitchhikes to Hollywood. An umpteenth lame variation of the road movie appears to be in the cards, but for the first and only time, the movie surprises us: Skippy makes it to the West Coast in about five minutes, thereby ensuring that this film will in fact be the umpteenth lame variation of the old "lovable loser trying to make it in Hollywood" routine.

Skippy first answers an ad for an inexplicably low-priced apartment of the sort that exists only in the movies, and moves in with another wacky loser, a paranoid nerd named Larry (Timothy Patrick O'Brien). Larry is drawing welfare, which is a good enough living as far as he's concerned, but since Skippy needs a job, Larry takes him to a temp agency run by the dubious Ringo (William Sadler, apparently doing a favor for Convery's uncle). Naturally, wacky comedy ensues, as Skippy screws up at all kinds of amusing professions. Why, he throws a bucket of water over a smoker! He pours hot coffee on a deaf mute's lap! He sprays mace in his own eyes! He falls over a lot!

Skippy is competently shot and edited, and Convery is even believable as the lead character. But it isn't funny. It doesn't even come close. Jim Varney at his worst could make a better film than this, and he's been dead for almost a year. You always know you're in trouble when a martial arts sequence begins, and the soundtrack cues up the song "Kung-Fu Fighting." We get it. Martial arts, check; supposed to be funny, check.

Perhaps Convery's biggest misstep is that, despite playing a nerd, he can't resist several shots of a shirtless or spandex-wearing Skippy that actually indicate a well-toned body. Chalk that one up to actor ego. It simply doesn't ring true when a guy with perfect abs goes into a gym and isn't strong enough to do any of the exercises. On the other hand, to give the film some credit, there is some good usage of stock footage to make a scene at the Oscars look more elaborate than Convery could actually afford.

But wait, there's more plot! Julia Fontaine turns out to be a conniving shrew who's looking to date a regular guy only to boost her waning popularity. And a deranged stalker from her past has just escaped from prison. Not to mention the fact that her manager has inexplicably decided that being seen with Skippy will be perfect for her image. And in case you aren't laughing yet, Skippy and his friends wear really ugly clothes in tacky colors, yet think they're being hip by doing so.

What's even more inexplicable is the presence of such reasonably established actors as Brewster, Sadler, Con Air's Danny Trejo, and Allan Rich. Are they all that desperate for work? Or were they, like Sadler, simply doing favors for friends who also happened to know Convery? One should, perhaps, marvel at Convery's determination: He made the film with a budget of almost nothing, and has been seeking distribution for four years now. But it's hard to be all that happy for him when so much work has ultimately amounted to so little.